


Carth Onasi Comes Home

by DuchessNoir



Series: Carth Onasi Comes Home [1]
Category: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Star Wars - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuchessNoir/pseuds/DuchessNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Admiral Carth Onasi hasn't given up on Revan. But he receives unexpected news after years of waiting. T3 returns with an urgent from none other than Dustil Onasi who claims to be Revan's Padawan. He pleads for help, his Jedi Master is sick and possibly dying. Carth Onasi gets a second chance to rescue his loved ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Sir, one of our teams brought back a droid." 

The young soldier hesitated and that caught Carth Onasi's attention. He was well liked by his men and preferred to think he was easily approachable, which he was. So it was that Admiral Onasi had learned to be alert when a soldier appeared nervous whilst bringing him news. Carth, hands clasped loosely behind, turned and regarded the youth.

The soldier realized his commanding was waiting for him to continue and he made a nervous squeak drawing in a breath. "Uh, excuse me, uh sir. The droid is asking for you Admiral. It says -"

"Where is it?" Carth asked with such sudden intensity the young man nearly leapt out of his own skin. With a great deal of restraint Carth kept from grabbing the soldier and shaking the information out of him. Something deep within Carth Onasi had stirred. His thoughts whispered a name and with that hope burned in his heart. 

The soldier pointed a shaking finger in a vague direction towards the aft of the vessel. The docking bays, where two teams had just returned from a scouting mission. Carth took off, forcing himself to walk until the bridge doors were sealed behind him and he broke into a sprint. The ship was big. But it had never seemed so uselessly large until now. Carth's dash through the corridors startled a fair number of soldiers and even a few droids. Eyes followed him as he ran past his boots thundering on the metal floor plates. There might be talk later, maybe even rumors, but he didn't care. 

In the docking bay a small vessel was nested amid a flurry of activity. Soldiers were trundling down the ramp, looking exhausted as they dropped their gear onto carts. Droids were scuttling after the maintenance crews who were tending to the ship. Carth burst into the room, but few here paid him attention. There was enough activity that one more person in a rush wasn't going to attract interest. 

He skidded to a stop just inside and looked around. But the droid spotted him first. The clamorous beeping snagged Carth's attention and he turned to see T3 bearing down on him. Trailing after the droid were two crew members, data pads and tools in hand, exasperation in their faces. One of them saw their charges destination and stopped long enough to salute. Carth found himself staring at the little droid. It was excited, chatting away in that manner of droids, moving in circles at his old friends feet. The droid itself looked worse for the wear. T3's plating was scratched and dented badly and in a few places, scared with blaster burns or ripped away completely.

"Sir, Admiral, this droid says he has a message for you," the crew member said. There it was again, though Carth was hardly aware of his own observation. This man was almost as nervous as the soldier back on the bridge.

"Perhaps we can have the droid brought - "

"No, just - just, clear out the bay," Carth ordered interrupting the technician. He dropped to one knee and laid a hand on T3's body. The droid stopped beeping and remained still under the mans touch. He could almost swear the droid's circuits were purring now. 

It took a couple of minutes, but his orders were carried out and the bay was left empty save for Carth and T3. The droid chirped softly and then, before Carth could speak, it began to play its message. A face, cast in a translucent blue light, was projected into the air before him. It was a face so unexpected the admiral swore in surprise.

"This is Padawan Dustil Onasi," the image said. The last time he'd seen Dustil there had still been some faint traces of his boyhood lingering in a young mans face. But the man displayed before him was no boy. He looked exhausted, if not a little a gaunt. 

Carth was trying to absorb so much at once he wasn't sure he was actually seeing his son. He couldn't even begin to imagine where Dustil had come across T3.

"My father is Carth Onasi, with the Republic Army. Well, he was the last time I saw him. Please, whoever finds this droid, bring him to my father," Dustil finished with a heavy voice. The image flickered then faded.

"Well come on T3! There has to be more than that!" Carth exclaimed with exasperation. The droid made a reproachful little noise and repositioned itself. A new image of Dustil appeared. This time he seemed to have been fighting. There was a cut on his cheek and above his brow and a discoloration of one eye which suggested the beginning of a bruise.

"I hope you're seeing this father," Dustil began. He stopped and then let out a hard breath. "I know we were meant to meet up on Telos, but I couldn't - just couldn't face home yet. I wasn't ready. And then I met Master Revan. She'll be furious if she catches me making this. She was headed to the outer rim and I convinced her to take me along. Well, not really. I pretty much just followed her. Eventually she gave in and even ended up taking me on as her apprentice. We've been traveling the outer rim for almost two and a half years. I'm surprised anyone let her come out here alone knowing what she was planning. Though things are going well. Uh. Were. Were going well."

The image of Dustil shifted and he looked away from the droid, his face creasing into worry. In it, Carth saw his boy again and he felt fear coiling in his heart. Dustil disappeared but the recording continued. There was the sound of his voice, soothing and pleading at the same time, but too far to be captured coherently. After a minute his face returned.

"We were in hostile territory, but Master Revan was confident we could handle it. She's like that you know? I wasn't so certain. Master Revan was right of course, we handled things. The natives attacked when we went out to the old shrine but we fought them back without a problem. They smashed our gear when we were inside though. Our speeders, our packs and supplies. Everything. And - maybe it wouldn't have been so bad. But ... Revan was bitten by a bug or something. Never saw one like it in my life. She said it was fine and maybe if our medpacks hadn't been smashed to bits - we walked most of the way back to the city before she collapsed."

"Is she alive?" Carth shouted at his sons recording. 

"I carried her the rest of the way. And after a few days rest Master Revan was back on her feet. Things kinda looked okay. We moved on but it wasn't long before she started getting sick again. I thought I could get her to a hospital somewhere, but she wouldn't hear of it. Master Revan didn't want any interruption in our task. She's gotten to sick to walk, she gets delirious a lot, fevers too. Nothing is making her better. And she keeps calling out. For you. Please, father, if you get this, send help. I can't do much else for her. She's dying and, dad, please. Please. We need help."

The image faded again but this time it did not return. Carth rose to his feet in shocked silence. He pushed a hand through his dark hair and looked around the empty bay. 

Revan. She was alive. But she was sick.

Dustil. He was alive, he had escaped Korriban and the Dark Side. Padawan. He'd claimed he was a Padawan and had referred to Revan as Master. 

Turning in a slow circle Carth tried to sort his thoughts out. But everything was coming all at once and he couldn't keep up. Behind him T3 beeped. The man ignored it and the droid chirped loudly for his attention. This time it rolled forward and gently bumped against him. Absorbed in the swirling vortex of emotions Carth didn't even notice. Then T3 rolled back and started playing a new recording.

"If something happens, you need to bring this back to Carth. Do you understand T3?" 

It was Revan's voice, her words soft and warm wrapping about Carth and pulling him into the moment. He turned and found himself facing Revan. A projection of her at least. Carth wanted to touch her face, his fingers twitching as they longed to feel her warmth and softness. 

"T3, where are they now?" Carth asked. Revan's face faded and the droid replaced it with a map. He nodded, reaching for a datapad, his mind already formulating plans to get underway.

Revan. Finally, he would see her again. And Dustil, his son, and this time he would be there Carth silently promised himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**_ Chapter 2 _ **

 

_**Jolee Bindo** _

 

"I found her! And Dustil too!"

 

Jolee blinked. He looked sharply at the image of Carth being projected before him. The mans expression was elated with joy. There could be little doubt of Carth's loyalty to Revan, and it pained the old Jedi on a personal level. Not that he begrudged the Admiral his happiness but Jolee's own ghosts rose from the depths of his memory to mock him. 

 

"Are you gong to tell an old man how you accomplished this? Or just sit there and grin like a damn fool," Jolee drawled. 

 

He leaned back in his chair as Carth launched into the story, first the little T3 droid being returned, the message from Dustil Onasi and even one from Revan. Wait. No, Carth said -

 

"Padawan? When did your boy become a Padawan?" Jolee asked.

 

"I think it's all rather unofficial. Dustil said that he convinced Revan to train him," Carth explained, his own uncertainty flashing across his expression. 

 

"The Onasi men must be a very persuasive lot," Jolee said. "You manage to win the heart of Revan herself and your son, Dustil manages to become her Padawan."

 

Carth coughed uncomfortably but Jolee sensed there was pride behind that embarrassment. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk before him. "I can't imagine the Jedi Council will be pleased to know Revan has a pupil. Last time she disappeared like this she came back at the head of a Sith army we almost couldn't defeat."

 

"Come on Jolee! You know Revan isn't like that anymore! You said yourself that she was tempted back at the temple, and not only did she refuse, but she also managed to bring Bastilla back from the Dark Side," Carth snapped. 

 

"I know that Carth, I'm simply pointing out how the Council might view this," Jolee said in a calm tone. Inwardly, he sighed. Carth was a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. Didn't that just remind him of someone Jolee thought bitterly. He waved a hand to dismiss the thought and pushed ahead, "So, tell me what it is you're planning on doing?"

 

"I have coordinates from T3, and a ship at my disposal," Carth said. Jolee watched as the internal soldier took over that face, laying out a clear plan for a rescue. And Jolee really couldn't argue with it. It was a good plan, as far as plans go. But nothing goes to plan Jolee reminded himself. He hoped Carth was prepared for that.

 

"Canderous Ordo? The mercenary? I didn't think you were that fond of him?" Jolee interrupted. Carth shrugged.

 

"He's a good man in a fight, and Revan respected his abilities," the admiral explained. "If it comes down to it, I really wouldn't mind having him at my side."

 

"And me too huh?" Jolee asked, firing a blaster in the dark. He knew he hit the mark when Carth had the grace to blush. Jolee leaned back again, this time with a broad smile across his face. "I can't say I'm the youngest man in the galaxy, but I think these old bones are up for one more adventure."

 

"Thank you Jolee," Carth said. "I'll send you the coordinates for where to meet me."

 

"Sure thing sonny," Jolee said and nodded farewell. The image of the admiral disappeared and Jolee sat for a long time in the darkened office with his thoughts. 

 

When Revan had left he'd thought it for the best. He felt bad for Carth, who just couldn't catch a happy break it seemed. But Revan was a complex creature all her own. Hero, monster, then back to hero. Jolee hadn't agreed with what the Council had done to Revan, even if he understood their need for the Star Maps. Burning away her memories and replacing them like she was a faulty droid. Darth Revan deserved death. But Jedi Revan, the one who dared defy the Council to lend a hand in the Mandalorian wars and the one who brought down the Star Forge, was a hero. She would become a mythic figure over time, Jolee had no doubt, just as he knew his own name would fade with his passing. Revan belonged to the ethos.

 

But Jolee wasn't going to let her die on some rock in the Outer Rim from a venomous bug bite. Revan, the Jedi Revan, deserved better than that. Jolee grabbed his datapad and stood with his thoughts turning. Preparations needed to be seen to before leaving but a cold thought gripped him. Of course, Revan might already be dead. That message was a week old according to Carth. Jolee liked to think he would have felt her passing but, the old man cleared his throat. 

 

"Knock it off you fool, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. If we do," he said aloud in the empty room.

 

\- ~ -

_**Carth Onasi** _

 

The  _Raptor_  was purring in the docking bay and Carth circled her slowly, making a close examination of her hull. She gleamed under the bright lights, a sleek starship with a dubious history of ownership. Carth hadn't questioned Canderous too closely regarding that. After all, the last ship the mercenary had secured him was the  _Ebon_   _Hawk_  and she'd been a fine vessel. The  _Raptor_ 's specs indicated she would be an even faster ship than the  _Hawk_  had been.

 

"Satisfied?" 

 

Canderous' voice was rough and his tone abrupt. The man had leaned against a wall to watch, scowling, as Carth had inspected the ship. 

 

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Carth declared. He noticed how the lack of praise seemed to rankle the Mandalorian just a bit. "And those supplies?"

 

"I got my hands on every antidote and medpack I could. Weapons as well. Most of the stuff you requested is in there," Canderous said. He straightened and strode forward. "I'm surprised the Republic is just going to let Admiral Onasi go running off to the Outer Rim on some personal rescue mission."

 

Carth raised a brow. When he spoke his tone was steel, "My son and my - Revan, are out there and need help. Nothing is going to stop me."

 

"Good. I'm glad to see your promotion hasn't gotten to your head. I was worried you were just going to pass this off to the chain of command," Canderous said. He flashed his teeth in a grin. "Who else is joining us?"

 

"Jolee Bindo," Carth said. Canderous looked at him expectantly and after a moment Carth added, "That's it."

 

"Not even Zaalbar? What about HK-47?" 

 

Carth shook his head. 

 

"Did Bastilla turn you down?"

 

"Not exactly," Carth said. "I didn't ask her. Look, I don't know what Revan is doing out there, and until I do I don't want to involve the Jedi Council. I can trust Jolee to keep this private."

 

Canderous grunted and Carth wasn't sure what that meant. But the man seemed to be content with that answer. His decision to leave Bastilla out of this had been a difficult one. As soon as word reached the Jedi's ears Carth didn't doubt he'd ever hear the end of it. But he didn't trust the Council as much as Bastilla did. They'd wiped Revan's mind once, if the Council feared her intentions in returning to the Outer Rim they might just wipe her mind again. Zaalbar was different. He knew the Wookie would have joined them without a second thought, but that would throw Mission into the mix. She was still young and Carth hesitated to drag her into danger. Besides the pair were doing quite well with their new business and there was no reason to put that on hold.

 

"I'll be on board, let me know when you're ready to take off," Canderous said interrupting the mans thoughts. Without waiting for a reply the heavily muscled mercenary strode off and disappeared into the Raptor.

 

Carth sighed. It was going to be a long trip. And with only the cantankerous Jolee Bindo and the rough Canderous Ordo, Carth wasn't sure he was going to be sane by the time he reach his loved ones. 

 

\- ~ -

_**Mission Vao** _

 

"No way! Are you sure T3?" The young Twi'lek was on the edge of her seat and when the droid confirmed his message Mission Vao let out an exuberant shout. From the passageway Zaalbar poked his head into the small office. Mission turned, smiling and explained herself, "T3 found Revan!"

 

< _Is she well_? > Zaalbar growled softly.

 

"He says she's sick," Mission said. "But Carth is planning to go after her. No surprise there. So, T3, where are we supposed to meet him?"

 

The projected image chirped, and the droid seemed to lower itself sadly. Mission exploded.

 

"Why isn't he asking us? I mean, we have as much right to help Revan as he does!" 

 

Behind her Zaalbar spoke, his tone admonishing, and Mission flushed. She gave a little shrug. "Okay, well, maybe Carth has more of an interest. But she's our friend Big Z! If not for her we woulda died on Taris! And, because of those slavers, we wouldn't have even been together for that!"

 

< _Perhaps I should go, you stay to look after business_. >

 

"No way! She's my friend, and if Revan needs help I'm going to be there. I'm not some little kid Zaalbar."

 

< _Then who will take care of things here_? >

 

Mission tapped a long finger against her lips. After a long moment she sighed. "You aren't going to like this Big Z .... But what about Griff?"


	3. Chapter 3

  
**Chapter 3**   


**Carth Onasi**

 

  
_The Unknown World. Night had fallen and somewhere the mysterious Rakata were preparing their ceremony. Back at the_ Ebon Hawk _the mood was somber, even a trifle tense. The crew ate a hasty meal and then sought to occupy themselves until they could seek their beds. Mission and Zaalbar passed the time playing pazaak, Canderous was cleaning his weapons and Jolee and Juhani were engaged in meditation in one of the crew quarters._  


_Carth walked the ship looking for Revan who was no where in sight. It was HK-47 who pointed the pilot in the right direction._

_"Observation: Master has gone outside. I believe she prefers solitude at the moment."_

_"Thanks HK," Carth said turning on his heel to exit the Hawk. The droid made him uncomfortable with it's homicidal enthusiasm and Carth was always careful to be polite to the thing._

_He walked down the ramp, passing into the cool night air and stopping at the bottom to allow his eyes time to adjust to the darkness. It wasn't totally dark though. Above the bowl of sky was studded with stars and the moon and of course the Star Forge itself. The landscape, though cast into deep shadows was also brushed with the soft white glow of the heavens lights. Carth looked out at the ocean, thinking briefly of Telos and his impending reunion with Dustil. The waves went hissing across the beach as it lapped at the sand._

_"Revan?" Carth called stepping into the sand. He looked down the length of the beach, eyes trying to see into the deepest of shadows when her voice called from above._

  
_"Here," she said. Carth wheeled around, head craning up to see Revan standing on top of the_ Ebon Hawk _looking down. Before he could protest she jumped from the ship and landed softly in the sand a few feet away._  


_"Don't do that!" Carth exhaled. She straightened and gave him a soft, gentle smile._

_"It's okay, Jedi - remember?"_

_Carth frowned at her. "Can we talk?"_

_"If you want," Revan said. There was a shift in her, subtle, but Carth felt it all the same. Revan became guarded, crossing her arms below her breasts and turning away slightly._

_"How are you coping?" he asked. Revan was silent for a long moment._

_"I don't remember being Revan. I don't remember the good or the bad. There's just those vague dreams," she admitted. Her face turned upwards and the light illuminated her delicate features. "And the life I do remember is a lie. When we were on Manaan I wrote a note on my datapad to send flowers to my mothers grave. Only, the woman I remember isn't really my mother."_

_"Maybe it will come back - "_

_Revan cut him off, her green eyes flashing at him, "Why would I want it back? I've been asking the others about Revan - about me! About the, the, the things I'd done as a Sith. I don't want to be that person."_

_"And you aren't!" Carth said. He took her by the arms, expecting her to pull away, but she stood there and let him hold her. "You've brought us all this far because you aren't that person. Remember that waitress Dia on Taris? Or, or what about that woman on Tatoonie with the wraid plate? You reached out and helped total strangers not because you had to but because you wanted to!"_

_"It was the right thing to do," Revan said softly. She cast her gaze to the sand. "You would have done the same."_

_"Honestly, I don't think I would have gotten involved. Maybe that widow. I probably would have been to focused on our mission to notice them," Carth admitted. "Revan, you have a good heart. Everywhere we've gone you've brought people hope."_

_Revan shook her head. Carth tightened his grip and brought her closer. "Without you I probably wouldn't have gotten Dustil back."_

_"Because I passed the test to join the Sith academy," Revan pointed out bitterly._

_"You bluffed," Carth insisted. "Once inside, you saved more lives. You turned two of them away from the Sith. Revan you can't doubt yourself. Not now. Not with what's coming."_

  
_"I won't fall Carth, I promised you I wouldn't," Revan said, her tone suddenly even and calm. Still Carth saw the conflict in her eyes. It worried him. With nothing else to say the pilot pulled her forward into a rough embrace. She buried her face in his chest, hands clutching at his shoulders. He planted a kiss on her hair, pausing to inhale her scent before resting his cheek against her head._  

 

"I know."

 

"Know what?"

 

Jolee Bindo. His rich voice, graveled with age, called to Carth from the co-pilots chair. Startled Carth sat upright and grabbed the console before him. As the dream shattered and he lost the feel of Revan with it, Carth passed a hand through his short hair. Daring only a glance in Jolee's direction he was embarrassed to see the old man grinning at him.

 

"Nice dream I take it?" 

 

"I don't remember," Carth lied. He checked the instrument panels hoping Jolee would drop it. 

 

"Well, I hope it was," Jolee said drawing in a breath. "Because I've got news you aren't going to like."

 

"What?" Carth felt his stomach turn sick and he looked at the Jedi with concern. 

 

"It seems news of our plan reached the ears of a certain young Twi'lek and her Wookie business partner," Jolee told him quickly. Carth sighed but then shook his head. The man raised his weathered hands and added, "It wasn't me sonny. You direct that anger at your little droid T3. It was that one that let the Tach out of the bag."

 

"T3?" That was perplexing and Carth leaned back letting his mind digest the news. While he did Jolee rose with a grunt from the co-pilots chair. 

 

"So, Mission and Zaalbar will be joining us when we get out of hyperdrive. I wonder if she's still got her pazaak deck." Still muttering to himself Jolee disappeared down the passage. Carth realized he was actually glad Mission and Zaalbar would be waiting for him. Perhaps seeing how much her friends cared for her would convince Revan to give up whatever she was pursuing in the Outer Rim. He'd wished Dustil had given him an idea what Revan was after. Carth had played his sons message repeatedly hoping for some clue, but never found one. And T3 had only one recording from Revan herself. 

 

Carth had played that one a lot. Almost every night before bed the pilot would listen to her words. So much, he knew it by heart. It was nice to hear her after the years. He was surprised at how much her voice soothed him.

 

He pushed those thoughts away and turned to the console. They would need to drop out of hyperspace soon. A docking bay on the planet Wayland would be made available to them. There he planned to purchase a medical droid. Though old Jolee Bindo was skilled in the arts of medicine, Carth wanted to leave no room for error. 

 

Confidently his fingers moved over the display. The  _Raptor_  began to reenter normal space. Slowly the engines hum quieted. He looked up, out into the vast emptiness of space and spotted their destination on the distant horizon. 

 

  
_Hold on Revan. I'm almost there. Can you sense that? You must be able to._  

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Dustil Onasi_ **

 

On a planet run by gangsters everything cost a premium. Medpacks, rent, food, it all ate a hefty portion of what income Dustil Onasi could pull in. He hated leaving Master Revan alone to go out and work but there was no choice. It had been the young mans hope to make enough money to get them off Gargon. But the  _Ebon Hawk_  would be expensive to refuel. As it was they were barely surviving. 

 

Dustil ducked under the swinging arm of an enraged gangster, glancing over his shoulder to watch the mans fist connect with a Rodian jaw. Tightening his grip on the small bundle beneath his robes Dustil quickened his pace. Around him another street fight was erupting. He had no desire to get involved.

 

The small two room apartment Dustil had rented was above a smoky cantina. It was a slum of an establishment. Most of the customers went there to drink themselves into oblivion. Three other apartments shared the space above. None of the tenants had any inclination to speak to each other, which was fine by Dustil. 

 

He dashed up the stairs, swearing under his breath when he saw the landlord waiting at the top. With no way to get around Dustil steeled himself for what was to come. 

 

"That woman was screaming again!" 

 

Dustil stopped. That was unexpected. He'd was prepared to be hounded over the next weeks rent. Tiru Varn seemed to prone to forgetfulness as Dustil often found himself reminding the landlord he was paid up.

 

"What?"

 

"Your mother, she's screaming again. So loud we hear her downstairs. My customers won't stay to drink with all that racket," the man shouted waving his arms. It had been Dustil's idea to pose as mother and son. Claiming themselves as Jedi could attract unwanted attention and Master Revan was in no position to defend herself. 

 

But hardly anyone was going to pay attention to a young man caring for his sick mother.

 

"I'm sorry Mister Varn," Dustil said quickly. He tried pushing past Tiru Varn but the man held his ground. Dustil felt a surge of anger and choked it back. 

 

"No more, if she disturbs the other tenants or my customers again," Varn said threateningly. Holding his breath Dustil turned to look sharply at the landlord. Something must have passed in his eyes because Tiru Varn quickly stepped to the side. The man swallowed nervously. He muttered, "I hope your mother feels better."

 

Dustil ignored him and went down the poorly lit hall. Pausing he looked back and saw Varn retreating down the stairs. Before unlocking the door Dustil took a deep breath, calming his anger before going inside.

 

"There is no emotion," Revan said. 

 

Dustil looked at his Master, surprised to see her out of bed. He barely registered her admonishment but said automatically, "There is peace."

 

"How are you feeling?" Dustil asked then. He opened his robes, dropping the cloth wrapped package onto the table. Revan turned back to the filthy window. It was evident she wasn't well. She was like a ghost now. Thin and pale, with hardly the strength to stand. A soft sigh escaped her. "Varn said you were screaming."

 

"Was I?" Revan asked apologetically. In the reflection of the window Dustil saw her brow crease. "Maybe I was. I don't remember." 

 

Dustil turned to unwinding the bundle. Laying out two medpacks and enough food for a few days meals provided he ate sparingly. Master Revan hardly touched food, but her thirst was never satisfied.

 

"Dustil, I don't know how long this moment of clarity will last, so I'm going to be blunt," Revan said facing him.

 

"I'm not leaving Master," Dustil said softly. When he looked at her tears shone in her eyes. He shook his head. "No. It's not an option. I won't abandon you here to die like that."

 

"Please Dustil, understand I'm at peace with this," Revan said with tears slipping over her sunken cheeks. "You need to go back now. I can't train you any more. And, there's your father. Dustil, I know Carth wants to see you again."

 

Biting his lip Dustil looked at the ground. He still hadn't mentioned he'd sent a message to his father. Though he had no idea if T3 had even reached the the elder Onasi it was a hope he wasn't going to let go of. Yet Revan still did not know what he'd done. Once she'd questioned him about the droids disappearance. Dustil had told her that he'd been forced to sell the droid to pay the Gargon docking fee. Neither had spoken of it again.

 

"Dustil? What aren't you telling me?" Revan asked. She had been looking intently at him. He took a deep breath. She was going to be angry, but maybe she'd be glad help was on its way.

 

"I didn't sell - MASTER!" Dustil cried as Revan collapsed in a heap on the floor, her limbs twitching with convulsions. He went to his knees, scooping her into his arms. The woman hardly weighed a thing. It was like carrying a doll Dustil thought angrily as he brought her, trembling, back to bed. 

 

Fetching the medpack from the first room Dustil returned and administered it. The seizure stopped and Revan lay still on the narrow bed. Letting out an explosive breath the young man sank to the floor. He clutched his head in his hands and remained like that until the early hours of the dawn.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four  
Carth Onasi

"No, this isn't right. I explicitly requested a medical droid, and I was told there was a rebuilt one I could have for cheap," Carth said, struggling to keep from shouting. The Raptor had landed in Wayland without issue. He paid the docking fees and went in search of his cargo where it seemed his plans were beginning to unravel. The Twi'lek who greeted him at the warehouse seemed more preoccupied by a datapad, giving Carth short dismissive answers. The medical droid was no where to be found. Sold to another buyer. Would Mister Onasi like his deposit back?

"Where is your boss?" Carth demanded tensely. The Twi'lek sighed while rolling his eyes before moving into a small office. After a few minutes the man came back, his face beaming with an overly gracious smile. 

"Oh, Admiral Onasi," the Twi'lek said giving a little bow of his head. The abrupt change threw Carth. He narrowed his eyes and waited for for the other man to speak again. "I'm so sorry. Your people contacted us and cancelled that droid. I believe you requested a portable bacta tank in its place. Such a nice investment. The Republic must have very deep pockets."

"What? No no no no," Carth said quickly. This wasn't being purchased on the Republic's bill, it coming from his own pocket. He'd done well and invested wisely over the years. But not enough for that big of a purchase. A refurbished medical droid was already putting a strain on his budget. 

"I have everything all packed and ready to load onto your vessel, if you'll just sign here and - where might your ship be docked?" 

"No one cancelled that droid," Carth insisted. 

"I'm sorry Admiral, but it was, I have the order right here."

Carth grabbed the offered datapad, a little more roughly then he had intended and scanned it. To his dismay the man was correct. The original order had been cancelled. A new order, the one for the bacta tank, had been filed in its place. Signed and paid for by - 

"Shit."

"Well that's hardly a nice greeting for an old friend."

Carth didn't want to turn around. His shoulders slumped and he stared at the far wall for a moment. If he remained still and didn't acknowledge the words then perhaps it -

"No, I won't go away," Bastilla said. Carth turned. She stood at the entrance and was every bit as lovely and frustrating as he remembered. But the look in her blue eyes was just a bit icy and indifferent. 

"Hello Bastilla, you look well," Carth said with forced pleasantry. He waved the datapad in her direction. "Was this all you then?"

"Mostly. I had some help, bacta is expensive, I could hardly afford it on my own," Bastilla explained. She glided forward and took the datapad from him. Deftly her fingers moved over it and she handed it back to the Twi'lek with a smile. 

"I have medpacks," Carth said. 

"Yes, and I'm sure your son has been able to get ahold of some as well. They don't seem to be working if he's requested help," Bastilla said. She turned to Carth again. "Bacta is proving to be more potent than kolto. I felt it was a smarter investment than an old droid."

"I've heard about bacta. It's just, well, thank you," Carth said, nearly forcing the words out. "Did the Council send you?"

Bastilla pursed her lips and said nothing. 

"I won't give her up to the Council," Carth declared hotly. "Not so you lot can wipe her memories again."

"That was an extreme measure Carth, with circumstances I don't think you fully understand. However the Council didn't send me. They don't even know I'm here. I came because of the bond I share with Revan. Did you think that meant nothing to me?"

It was Carth's turn to be silent. All the while the Twi'lek was standing not too far away, making an obvious effort not give away his eavesdropping. Carth glanced over his shoulder at the man. With a grunt the pilot took Bastilla gently by the arm and led her from the warehouse. They emerged onto a crowded street and fell into step together. 

"I sort of figured the bond was, well, over," he said. "I mean the Star Forge was destroyed. Is the bond needed?"

"It's not something we can turn off or on at will Carth," Bastilla explained with a trace of exasperation. "When I joined my thoughts with hers our bond was forged. I will confess I have felt her distress - "

"What? You knew Revan was in trouble and you didn't even contact me!" Carth wheeled on her so quickly the young woman shrank back. 

"Please, I knew only that she was in trouble, not where she was or what was wrong," Bastilla said quickly. "I thought about contacting you for a long time. But then I thought it would be crueler to give you such news and rob you of whatever hope you had for her return." 

Carth considered this and Bastilla continued, "I care for her too Carth. She saved me from the Dark Side. Even after I scorned her for her own fall, Revan reached out to me and brought me back to the Light."

"I understand," Carth said. "So what now?"

"Hopefully my purchase of a bacta tank earns me an invitation onto the Raptor," Bastilla said with a nervous smile.

\- ~ -  
Revan

The passage of time no longer held meaning for Revan. The moments of lucidity were getting smaller and the gaps between them larger. Sometimes she woke when the day was full and bright, other times in the darkness. Dustil was often there. She could see the worry in his face, it was aging him harshly and that broke her heart. Not for the first time Revan reflected she should have contacted Carth, told him of Dustil, made him come and get the boy. Why didn't she, Revan wondered as she stared at the low ceiling. 

Because you would have given up if you'd seen Carth again. You almost couldn't leave to begin with, remember?

And Dustil was stubbornly committed to staying with her. His determination reminded her of his father. She pushed those thoughts from her mind quickly. 

With great effort Revan sat up, wincing at the deep ache in her body as she moved. Gripping the edge of the bed with nearly skeletal hands she paused and waited for the room to stop spinning. Revan tried to recall what it was like just getting up, rising without becoming dizzy or exhausted for it. Had she ever been that healthy? 

The silence which hung in the apartment was thick, a sign that Dustil had gone out to work. Revan sighed. He'd been taking whatever jobs he could get, accepting anything that would put a few credits into his hand at the end of the day. 

Like Taris. We crashed, and we were broke. It was Carth and I then. I signed up for the dueling ring. It wasn't to the death I argued so what was the big deal and he grudgingly agreed. It was good money. And I took that ridiculous name. Mysterious Stranger. Carth encouraged it. Mysterious Stranger.

"You were though weren't you?" 

Revan looked to the door. She blinked, looked again then drew backward with fear. A familiar figure, tall and heavily muscled loomed within the frame. Malak. He grinned at her menacingly, his teeth flashing like a firaxa shark in the gloom. 

"You didn't even know who you were," Malak teased. "The great Darth Revan versus Deadeye Duncan. A contest for the ages. I wonder, if Carth Onasi had known who he pulled from the wreckage of the escape pod, would he have just put a blaster to your head?"

Drawing in a deep breath Revan closed her eyes and recited the Code to herself. Malak let out a soft chuckle. It sounded contemptuous and hateful to her ears. She exhaled, drew what little of the Force she could manage and recited the passage again. 

When Revan opened her eyes Malak was gone and she was alone once more.

Not like this. Don't let me die like this. Not mad and crazy. 

\- ~ -  
Mission Vao

If you weren't supposed to hug Jedi, no one had bothered telling Mission. She threw her arms around Bastilla and hugged the other woman tightly. After a moments surprise, Bastilla returned the hug. When Mission drew back she noticed the Jedi's embarrassed blush and smiled.

"I didn't think you were going to come," Mission said catching her breath. The transport ship she and Zaalbar had taken ended up arriving at Wayland more than an hour late. The pair had run through the crowded port to reach the Raptor.

"Is there any one else you've invited?" Carth asked her. A frown tugged at his mouth and Mission felt defensive.

"Well, Juhani was just too far away. But she contributed to the bacta tank. And why shouldn't we all be here? Reven is important to all of us," Mission said putting her hands to her hips.

"If we aren't waiting for anyone else, lets get underway then," Carth said. Mission watched him turn sharply and head for the cockpit. 

"I was worried we weren't going to make it in time," Mission confessed. 

Zaalbar growled at Mission, easing his bulk onto one of the seats. 

"You made it just, he's been itching to go," Jolee said referring to Carth. The old man was sat at a table, working at preparing additional medpacks. Bastilla joined him.

"We can't spare any time," Bastilla added as her hands worked quickly. "Whatever has befallen Revan grows more serious with the hour. I can feel it."

"You mean with the Force?" Mission asked. She sat beside Zaalbar. 

"With our Force bond, yes," Bastilla said.

Mission gasped. Beside her Zaalbar gave a mournful sound then chuffed 

"Two days," Jolee said. 

"Do we actually know where on Gargon they're staying?" Bastilla asked. "I never got to hear Dustil's message myself."

"Carth didn't mention an exact address," Jolee said. "But T3 knows what district the pair are in."

 

"We will need to exercise great caution," Bastilla said. "Gargon is run by gangsters and they can be vicious when they want something. I would like to say a party of Jedi's would be shown some respect -"

"We'll make them respect us," Canderous growled coming into the cabin.

"Hello Canderous," Bastilla said a bit stiffly. 

"Hey there," Mission said. "Gangs shouldn't be much of a problem, Big Z and I used to deal with them all the time on Taris."

"Those were little more than petty thugs Mission," Canderous told her. "The men who run Gargon would have made Davik Kang wet himself."

"Hmm, yes, I have to agree with Canderous,"Bastilla said with a hint of distaste. She went on to add, "The gangs on Gargon are dangerous. I'm certain Revan and Dustil will not have exposed themselves as Jedi. They will probably be in disguise."

"I think the Wookie makes a good point," Jolee said. "We'll split up as soon as we reach port. We can travel in pairs to be less conspicuous and stay in contact with our personal communicators. One pair can start at the local clinics and hospitals. - "

"Big Z and I can do that," Mission volunteered. 

Jolee nodded, "And another should start asking around in the packing and processing plants for phobium. It's the kind of place that offers work to just about anyone who will do the job and doesn't object to bad pay."

"We should split up Jolee," Bastilla commented. "If one of us finds Revan we may be able to sustain her with the Force."

"Alright, then I'll take Carth and we can search the slums. You and Canderous take the factories and warehouses," Jolee decided. Mission noticed that Bastilla went stiff, her lips pinched together tightly. For his own part Canderous grunted agreement and disappeared back to the cargo hold. As Jolee caught the young Twi'lek's eye the old man gave her a slow wink.

Puzzled Mission fished her pazaak deck from her bag and began to play a solo game.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**_Bastilla Shan_ **

 

It felt like the old days. Bastilla sat in the co-pilots chair, Carth at the helm. Piloting the starship came so naturally to the man who handled the  _Raptor_  like an extension of his own body. Just like he had the  _Ebon Hawk_  she reflected. Though Carth seemed tense as he worked the controls. His shoulders were bunched beneath that familiar orange jacket. A scowl creased his handsome face. 

 

Bastilla felt his anger. Anger at her for keeping secrets. At Mission for involving her to begin with. There was an urge to address it, but Bastilla suppressed it with difficulty. It was better she decided to let it go. She had kept information about Revan from him though it had only been with his best interests in mind. From the first moments Bastilla had felt Revan's danger the young Jedi had been conflicted. Not knowing where her friend was left Bastilla powerless to render assistance. When she had contacted Carth the man still spoke of Revan with so much hope in his voice Bastilla could not bring herself to share the premonition. The Force bond had robbed Bastilla of her own hope how could she do that to Carth Onasi?

 

As Bastilla gazed at the blur of the stars beyond the viewport windows she thought back to their days hunting for the Star Forge. There had been secrets then too. She was always keeping a watchful eye on Revan, looking for signs the woman might be remembering who she really was. Wordlessly she'd seen Carth drawing closer to Revan, until the feelings between the pair were so deep it no longer mattered to the pilot he had fallen in love with Darth Revan. Of course that wasn't right though. Carth hadn't fallen in love with Darth Revan, but with the woman who had come out of the ashes of the Sith lords fall. Bastilla had to admit even she had grown fond of that Revan. 

 

"Bastilla?"

 

The words were barely above a whisper but it sent a jolt through Bastilla. She sat up, turning to look at Carth with mild surprise. He was looking at his instruments, their bluish glow casting a soft light upon his face. 

 

"Yes, what is it Carth?"

 

He didn't say anything but Bastilla waited.

 

"Could you feel, with your bond, if Revan - if she, she - passed?" He struggled to get that out, the words painful and spoken in fear. Bastilla closed her eyes. She wished he'd ask anything else. He could yell at her, shout at her for keeping secrets. Even demand she leave. But that softly spoken question bruised her heart more deeply then she could have imagined.

 

"Yes," she admitted then rushed to add as reassuringly as possible, "But I haven't felt it. Revan is alive, of that I'm certain."

 

"You will tell me right? I deserve to know," Carth said finally looking at her. Bastilla gave him a small sad smile.

 

"Of course Carth."

 

"Good," he said and let out a deep breath. He was silent a moment then stood up. "I'm going to see about getting something to eat. Keep an eye on things here."

 

Bastilla nodded and shifted her attention onto the control panel. Gargon was a day and a half away now. The  _Raptor_  raced through hyperspace carrying its small crew towards their destination with a purring hum. 

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Dustil Onasi_ **

 

The betting office was on the third floor of an Exchange run cantina. It was a nice place, intended for high rollers. Dustil had been given some grief by the bouncers who didn't want to let him in. Exhausted and scruffy in appearance the young man didn't look like he had a credit to his name. This was true for the moment. He was at the cantina to hoping to change his fortunes.

 

He'd fallen back on the Force to get around the men guarding the entrance, pushing their minds to his own will. The bouncers stepped aside with blank expressions gesturing him towards the door. It brought Dustil a surge of confidence he knew Master Revan would be disappointed by. 

 

Dustil walked inside to find the club relatively empty except for the staff. It was early in the day and preparations for the nights customers were underway. On the far stage the band was rehearsing while a few servers milled around the tables. Dustil paused to get his bearings. A few people glanced at him but took no serious notice of him. Though at the bar, which ran the length of one wall, a small green figure waved to him. Curiously Dustil approached the Rodian. 

 

"You here for serving yes?" 

 

"Uh, no. I want to speak with Sibba Motta. I was told he could be found here," Dustil said, referring to the large Hutt who arranged the matches in the cities dueling arena. The Rodian made a small noise and shook his head sadly.

 

"You no want fight. Many men die. Human. Twi'lek. Wookie. Rodian. No glory in dying. Be Pulla Vaga's server. Steady work. Not pay great though," the little Rodian said. Dustil stopped himself from smiling. Perhaps Pulla Vaga was a good bar tender but he wasn't a convincing salesman the young Padawan thought to himself. Steady work might be nice but he needed credits more than he needed job reliability. 

 

"Sorry, but I'd really to speak with Sibba Motta. Is he around?"

 

The Rodian turned away. He waved a short arm in the direction of a door set at the farthest end of the bar. "Upstairs deadman. Upstairs."

 

Beyond the door a hallway led to a kitchen, which was a flurry of activity as staff prepared for the nights impending rush of customers. Dustil passed by, wincing at the shrill screams of the angry man who looked to be in charge, and mounted the stairs at the end of the hall. For such a high end establishment the staff areas were dark and cramped. Dustil, who had grown into a broad shouldered man, felt claustrophobic as he ascended. 

 

How does a Hutt manage this?

 

On the third floor the stairs ended in a short hall with only one door. Dustil approached, knocked loudly and waited. 

 

The voice which urged him to enter sounded exasperated. The speaker, Dustil saw as he opened the door, belonged to a big Hutt who dominated the room. Dustil entered cautiously, taking in the surroundings even as he eyed the Hutt. The space was ornately appointed, furnished in purples and trimmed with gold for an overly gaudy display of wealth. 

 

"Are you Sibba Motta?" 

 

"Yes, are you here to pay a debt? I don't usually handle those myself you know," Sibba replied. The Hutt gave Dustil an appraising look which made him squirm internally. "But I can make an exception. Perhaps we can even negotiate your balance."

 

"I'm not a debtor," Dustil said quickly. Motta frowned with obvious disappointment. "I'm here to a arrange a match in the ring. I'm a fighter."

 

Sibba's eyes widened. "Of course you are. Such a tall, well built young man. Do you ... uh, have much experience dueling?"

 

"I can fight," Dustil said. A muscle in his jaw twitched but he remained still. 

 

"You can fight, but can you duel?" Motta waved a stubby arm and Dustil turned his attention to a view screen mounted over a desk. It was a display of a recent fight. 

 

Dustil had heard the excitement over it from the other men he'd been working alongside. The fight was considered a foregone conclusion. The ranking champion was defending his title from an up and comer who had barely survived his previous opponents. Everyone knew the upstart didn't stand a chance. Dustil hadn't watched the coverage but he knew something unwelcome had happened. People were saying the challenger had cheated, some argued the defender had taken a dive on purpose. Whatever the case, a lot of money had been lost on the fight and had made for some very angry people.

 

"See, dueling isn't just about knocking your opponent around. The crowd expects a show," Motta explained. Certainly the two men on the screen had a lot of a flair. That was about it though. Master Revan would certainly have had ample criticism of their form. Dustil raised a brow and glanced back at Motta.

 

"So it's not even real?" Dustil had to tread carefully here. He sensed Motta wasn't going to just let him into the arena. The Hutt would need to be led into it.

 

"Of course it's real!" Motta bristled. He drew himself up as best a Hutt could managed. "Why don't you speak to my reigning champions corpse if you don't believe me. These are fights to the death."

 

"We'll, sure, so are most of the fights out there on the street," Dustil shrugged. 

 

"The arena is not some back alley brawl!"

 

"Yeah, those are real fights."

 

Motta made an odd angry squawk. "You want a real fight, just try stepping into the arena! Where thousands of eyes watch every little move you make and are waiting to cheer for your death!"

 

Dustil sighed and rolled his eyes. He was close, but this was where the game got trickier. If the Padawan pushed to far Motta might get angry enough to throw him out.

 

"Do you think you could be so brazen knowing people have wagered on your public demise?" Motta demanded.

 

"I'll give you a good show," Dustil said, hoping that it wasn't going to end up being his own death. Motta's cavernous nostrils were flared and the Hutt looked at him with narrowed eyes. There was a feeling that he was being examined again by Motta only now Dustil was being judged on his potential as a fighter. 

 

"I'll put you in with Sai Penteg," Motta said in a suddenly cheerful tone. "He's a newcomer who has been doing fairly well for himself."

 

"What does it pay?" Dustil asked.

 

"If you win? 150 credits," Motta said then a smile slithered onto his face. "If you die? One free funeral, courtesy of the trash incinerators. So, - uh, what is your name young man?"

 

"Dustil Onasi, but I'd prefer to use a pseudonym in the arena," the Padawan suggested.

 

"Most men do. Well, what would you like to be called? Death's Shadow? The Dark Destroyer?"

 

Dustil smiled. "How about, the Mysterious Stranger?" 

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Tiru Varn_ **

 

The young tenant from above had come in that morning making inquiries about the dueling ring. Varn had sent him off to Sibba Motta, a Hutt who managed the circuit on Gargon. While tall and broad, Varn didn't think the lad was going to have much of a career in the ring if he even got the chance. The few that did rarely lasted long. It wasn't a sport which attracted people who thought much about their future.

 

It was a sad story Varn decided as he took a long pull of his drink. The boy, Dustil, had dreams of glory but was stuck caring for his sick mother. Tied to such a heavy burden it was no wonder Dustil was willing to try his luck in the arena. 

 

Of course, once his tenant had been killed in his first duel, that would leave Varn with the unfortunate problem of dealing with the woman himself. He had never laid eyes on Dustil's mother, but he'd heard her screams.

 

Varn swallowed another mouthful, a slight wince as the burn hit his throat and slid into his belly. She would be put out on the street. Unless of course she could pay rent, which Varn knew was unlikely. That left him with the issue of their belongings. It would only be fair that Varn acquired them following Dustil's death. After all the man reasoned, the profit from pawning whatever he claimed could help repay for the business he'd lost because of that screaming. 

 

He gave this a idea few minutes, letting it marinate in his brain before deciding he might as well see what they had now. Slamming his empty glass on the table Tiru Varn stood and went upstairs to pay a visit to his tenants mother. The least he could do was pay his respects to the woman.

 

Quietly Varn moved down the hall, a nervous flutter lighting in his stomach. He kept glancing back to be sure no one was watching him. Using the master keycard Varn unlocked the door to the apartment. He took a deep breath and went inside. 

 

Inside it was unnaturally quiet. Varn didn't see the woman in the front room and figured she had been given the bed in the back. It seemed absurd to give her the bed the landlord thought. She was dying, and if she had any manners, she could do it quickly in a cot out here Varn thought to himself lifting robe from the table. His fingers slipped over the rough fabric but he was careful not to unfold it. 

 

The garment wouldn't fetch much. He replaced it, then looked about. Varn was surprised at how tidy the place had been kept. There was some packages of food, a medpack and nothing else. 

 

Perhaps they kept everything of value in the back. Varn craned his neck trying to see into the unlit room. The woman must be asleep, or finally dead, and Varn moved slowly across the floor. It couldn't hurt to take one quick look. Just to get an idea of what he would be pawning. He would just have to be very quiet. 

 

"Where is my Padawan?"

 

The voice startled Tiru Varn though his mind immediately began conjuring excuses about his concern for her welfare. He would calm her, promise to send them a hot meal, and help her back to bed. But it was the hiss of the lightsaber which drove a cold spike of fear into his heart. And when the blade blossomed into deadly life, casting its green glow about the room, Varn uttered a weak cry.

 

He caught no more than a glimpse of the woman wielding the weapon. Her long hair wild, skin so pale it was nearly translucent, and the gaunt sunken eyes which regarded him with open hatred. Gripped by fear Varn turned, stumbling over his legs, and fled the apartment. 

 

It wasn't until hours later and nearly a bottle of cheap booze later that Varn realized he had a Jedi upstairs. Even a sick Jedi must be worth something the man thought to himself. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**_Dustil Onasi_ **

 

The vibroblade whistled through the air making contact with Dustil's shielded forearm. He grunted with the impact but managed to redirect the weapon away from his body. Quickly the Padawan followed with his own sword, an Echani foil on loan from Motta, and swung it upwards catching his opponent unexpectedly on the breastplate. 

 

Sai Penteg's breath rushed from his lungs and he doubled over with a gasp. Even with the wind knocked from him, the man was fast. He shuffled backwards bringing his own vibroblade up in a protective gesture. 

 

Seeing his opportunity to take the offensive Dustil lunged forward, raising his sword above his head and bringing it smashing down upon Sai's head. Just barely Sai managed to block the attack, the stadium lights gleaming off the edge of the blade a few inches from his face. Dustil saw the look of fear that filled the other mans face as the outcome of this fight suddenly became certain. 

 

Resolving himself against the unpleasant task, Dustil pressed hard again. His sword rang against his opponents armor as Sai tried, and failed, to block or dodge the hail of blows. Weakened and confused the man stumbled on his retreat. Dustil took the chance and lunged forward. Taking advantage of a gap in Sai's armor the Padawan pushed the blade into it. The Echani foil slipped with ease into Sai Penteg's chest. Shock filled his face and he froze. The vibroblade clattered to the ground as Sai clutched at the sword protruding from his chest.

 

Dustil gritted his teeth and twisted his arm. There was a wet ripping sound and Sai's lips parted. Instead of a cry, bright red blood poured from the open mouth. Grimly Dustil yanked the blade free. The dead man sagged to the floor still wearing a look of disbelief on his face.

 

The crowded arena burst into fervent screams and applause. It was deafening. An almost physical assault on Dustil's body. Somewhere overhead the disembodied voice of Motta was clamoring for attention. 

 

"YOU'VE SEEN IT HERE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER HAS DEFEATED YOUNG SAI PENTEG! THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER IS OUR VICTOR!"

 

Dustil looked around, his own face being displayed on the arenas large view screen. It was disorientating to have his own face looming overhead. Reflexively the Padawan smiled and the crowd went louder. Dustil tried not to let it wash over him, he had not sought the match for accolades, but for the credits. Two more successful fights and he could put Revan into stasis. It would buy him enough time to find her help. 

 

Without realizing it, Dustil raised the Echani blade over head and pumped his arm in victory. 

 

"OH YES, THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER - AS HANDSOME AS HE IS DEADLY LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Motta shouted to the crowds.

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Revan_ **

 

_The young man was nearly a head taller then the rest of the crowd. He stood out, and not just his height made him so conspicuous. It was his unfamiliarity with the bustling street. Revan wasn't the only one to take an interest in him either. Three other men were following closely behind. Dustil Onasi was about to become a victim of a rather nasty mugging the Jedi Master surmised._

_Drawing the hood of her robes over her head, Revan slipped through the throngs, her attention kept on Dustil and his new friends. She projected herself through the Force pushing the boundaries of her awareness until she knew where Dustil was going a moment before he did. It was only a few seconds advantage, but it would be enough for Revan to turn events to her favor._

_Still lost Dustil paused at a junction, looking first up one street then another. It was a jumble of market stalls. From the walls of the sleek black buildings hung brightly lit signs declaring, in the native language, the businesses within. All around everyone was jostling for space, haggling with the market vendors who passionately defended their wares. Revan watched as a young Twi'lek slipped up to Dustil._

 

Don't be that trusting Dustil,  _she thought angrily._  


_The young man asked a question, sweeping his arm to emphasize his predicament. Nodding eagerly the Twi'lek grabbed his arm and began dragging him down the street. Revan caught the subtle glance between the three men still following their prey and their Twi'lek accomplice. She maintained a cautious distance, being careful not to give herself away, but keeping Dustil in view at all times. As she expected Dustil was dragged up an alley way. It was bound to be narrow, dark, and mostly empty._

_Moving with sudden speed the three men darted into the mouth of the alley. Revan quickened her own pace._

_She found Dustil at the center of a circle of men, ten in total. They came from a variety of species, dressed in rough clothing with an assortment of handheld weaponry. The young Twi'lek had disappeared. Revan felt Dustil's surprise as the realization set in that he had been walked into a trap._

_"Your credits and anything else of value," one of the men said with such ease Revan figured this was a fairly successful tactic for the thugs. Which was good, they probably weren't prepared for a fight. And would be less prepared for a Jedi._

_"And if I say no?" Dustil shot back hotly._

_"Then your life," the other man shrugged. There was a ripple of laughter around the group._

 

They'll take your life anyways,  _she sighed inwardly. But Dustil's hand shot to his waist and he drew his lightsaber fast enough to startle his would be attackers._  


_Revan moved. She drew her own weapons, igniting the twin blades, and rushed the men. Her first two swings were fatal. The closest two hit the street without making a sound. Dustil was fully engaged, pressed in on three sides. But he handled himself well, parrying their thrusts with relative ease._

_Quickly ducking the edge of a vibroblade Revan swung her left blade low. It made contact with the legs of a stocky man who screamed shrilly as the lightsaber passed through flesh and bone. The right followed in an arc and the shrieking ceased._

_Dustil managed to disarm one his three attackers then knocked another to the ground with a hard kick to the chest. With his attention less divided he turned on the third and quickly struck a deadly blow. Brutally Revan lunged forward and sliced upward killing a fourth then a fifth on her backstroke. The rest of the fight was short, Dustil ran through a Rodian and the others broke and run. For a moment Dustil looked like he was about to give pursuit. The anger rolling off him in waves._

_"Dustil Onasi hold it there!" Revan shouted in a ringing voice. It didn't matter if it was her tone or hearing his name, he skidded to a stop and turned to her. Revan switched off her lightsabers and hung them back on her belt. "Just where do you think you are going?"_

_"How do you - " he was looking at her closely. "You, you were with my dad on Korriban. That, well, you're Revan!"_

_"Yes, but a better question is why you never met your father on Telos," Revan said. Dustil blushed. He turned off his lightsaber and made a small noise to clear his throat._

_"It's uh, a long story," Dustil said. "Do you know if he's well?"_

  
_"Yes. But he misses you," Revan told him softly. She took a breath and stepped over one of the bodies to stand before Dustil. "Why don't we get a drink and you can explain how you ended up here."_  

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Dustil Onasi_ **

 

People at Motta's had encouraged him to stay and celebrate but wearily Dustil refused their invitations to drink and spice with polite firmness. The Hutt paid him his share of credits while making promises of bigger payments if the young man would sign a contract. Dustil refused that, for which Motta had whined, but he did agree to one more fight. With credits in hand Dustil made for the employees exit. 

 

"Deadman fight well."

 

Dustil smiled and turned to see Pulla Vaga holding a large crate of Ebla beer. The small Rodian grunted with the effort of keeping the crate from slipping out of his hands. Quickly Dustil moved forward and took the crate relieving the bartender of the burden. 

 

"Pulla Vaga not expect see deadman again," he added and led Dustil down the hall to a storage room. "You want, still be server for Pulla Vaga. Good hours."

 

"Thanks, but I kinda need the credits," Dustil said sliding the crate onto the shelf the bartender directed him to. Behind him the little man made a sad noise and said something in Rodian. With a frown Dustil turned back, "Sorry, I don't - "

 

"You want fast swoop bike? Or pretty female? Big apartment?" Pulla Vaga asked switching back to basic. 

 

"No," Dustil said shaking his head. "My, mother, is ill. I need the credits to get her help." 

 

"Pulla Vaga is glad deadman not like others. Also sad for mother."

 

"Thank you." 

 

"Then Pulla Vaga wish you great luck in fights."

 

Dustil thanked the friendly Rodian again, and parted ways. With his hands shoved into his pockets he made the trek back to the apartment. Master Revan was in a peaceful slumber. And he was pleased when he placed a hand on her brow to find there was no fever. She stirred lightly at his touch, murmuring a name so softly he couldn't make it out. 

 

Quietly he left her to sleep and collapsed weary and sore onto the couch. In moments he was lost to a deep, dreamless, sleep all his own. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7  
 _Carth Onasi_**

It was difficult to control his impatience. Carth focused on landing the _Raptor_ in the Gargon port. The vessel slipped into her dock, touching down softly, and settling lightly on her landing pads. He punched a few buttons and the Raptor's engines went quiet. The sudden silence felt a stark contrast to what he was experiencing on the inside. For a moment the pilot sat and considered the situation.

Somewhere on the planet Revan and Dustil waited for him. But they could be anywhere in the bustling district with its forest of towering high rises and the thousands of people crowded into them. Carth hadn't been this close to his loved ones in years, yet without knowing where they were, he may well have still been in the Inner Core.

In the _Raptor's_ common area his friends were waiting. Bastilla and Jolee were talking softly in a far corner. Canderous, armed to the teeth with a heavy repeating blaster at each hip, was propped against the bulkhead a grim look on his scarred face. Standing beside Zaalbar, Mission smiled brightly up at Carth as he joined them.

Catching sight of the pilot Jolee cleared his throat, "We've been discussing our plan."

"Oh?" Carth tried to keep the edge from his voice. "Was anyone going to tell me?"

"Relax," Jolee told him. "We all know you have a lot on your mind and it's a good plan, so at least hear us out. Zaalbar made the suggestion we split up. He and Mission will start their search at clinics and medcenters. Bastilla and Canderous will poke around the warehouses and whatnot. The kind of places a hard working young man might find easy work. You and I will start asking around the cheaper rental areas."

Nodding Carth considered the suggestion and found no fault with it. He did glance at Bastilla, wondering why she was volunteering to go with Canderous, but decided against mentioning it. The important thing was they started the search.

Mission handled the docking clerk, smiling sweetly at him as she negotiated their docking fee down. Then, satisfied with the final number, she nudged Carth. He handed the credits over to the man and the group went on their way. Outside the port they split into pairs, promising to stay in contact, and urging caution. Carth looked at Jolee and fell into step alongside the Jedi.

"You should try not to worry so much," Jolle told him when they away from their companions. "I know that's easier said then done. But a clear head will help this search more than a heart full of worry."

"Sorry Jolee, I never got the Jedi training on not having emotions," Carth said. The bitterness in those words surprised him a little. Jolee just arched a brow and grunted. Quickly Carth apologized. "I'm sorry Jolee. That wasn't fair. But, I can't help feeling worried. Somewhere Revan and Dustil need my help. And this feels like .... "

There was a moment of silence. Carth realized he didn't want to make the comparison but Jolee made it for him.

"Like Telos?"

Tensely Carth nodded. The old Jedi let out a long sigh.

"You know I won't promise you anything I don't believe," Jolee told him. "That said, I believe we will find them both. I can feel it."

Silence overcame them but it was not tense or awkward. Carth was trying not think that this might all be too late. He wanted to share Jolee's, even Bastilla's, confidence in this mission. But he didn't have the luxury of the Force to whisper such reassuring things. All he had were memories of Telos, a haunting reminder that he'd been too late to save his wife or his son. Gargon was his second chance to do things right.

Carth Onasi wasn't going to fail again.

**\- ~ -  
 _Zaalbar_**

As was customary Mission handled the talking. Zaalbar noticed that when Mission choose to be she was a charming individual that was difficult to resist. Inviting and friendly she often managed to talk others into giving her what she wanted. It had helped land some lucrative business contracts. Zaalbar didn't mind if people looked at him as the heavy muscle. Mission didn't treat him that way. Back on Taris she let her mouth get away from her on more than one occasion and he'd been forced to get rough. But since the _Ebon Hawk_ and Revan the little Twi'lek was slowly maturing.

"Nothing!" Mission slapped her thigh in frustration. The medical droid turned and walked stiffly back to its duties.

< _It wasn't likely we were going to find them at the first clinic._ > Zaalbar pointed out. The pair returned to the street. Mission fished her datapad out of her bag and made a note.

"I know, it's just," Mission sighed. "It would have been easier if we had."

Of course Zaalbar thought to himself she still had a ways to go to grow out the impatient girl she'd been they had met. They were walking on a high promenade which offered sweeping views of the large city. Together they went to the railing attracted by the sprawling metropolis.

"How many medcenters in this district?" Mission asked absently.

< _Twenty-three._ > Zaalbar replied. A large domed building caught their attention. It wasn't far from the promenade and the friends could easily see the large crowd milling around the stadium. It was lit up brightly and decorated festively. Several large projectors were displaying ghostly holograms of two men engaged in fiery combat.

"Uh. Excuse me," Mission said turning to a group woman enjoying the view nearby. Only one bothered to acknowledge the Twi'lek. "What is that about?"

"It's Motta's newest duelist," she said in a tone that suggested anyone important would already know this. "He's absolutely the best. And quite good looking. They call him the Mysterious Stranger."

Mission thanked her and led Zaalbar away from the railing. "Dueling, what a horrible sport. Anyways. Let's get back to it."

< _That name sounds familiar._ > Zaalbar chuffed as they continued along to the next medcenter.

"Oh, they always pick those horrible fake names. It's so stupid."

Zaalbar frowned. Something about the duelists name continued to nag at him, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

**\- ~ -  
 _Canderous_**

The Jedi hardly spoke a word to him. Canderous didn't object, he wasn't much for talking, and there was little common ground between them anyways. Though he did wish Bastilla had taken greater efforts not to stand out. Dressed in her Jedi robes, a lightsaber at her hip, she was drawing a fair amount of attention.

Their path had taken them to a cluster of buildings, square and squat, designed not for their beauty but for their function. The people who filled the streets ranged in their species but there was one thing they all had in common. Weary exhaustion filled the faces that surrounded the pair. Many of the men appeared rough and were heavily muscled from a lifetime of hard labor.

"Wait here," Bastilla said cooly.

Canderous snorted, "Not likely."

"And why not?" Bastilla demanded of him. Her dark eyes glittered with irritation.

"Because you stand out," Canderous said. Before she could argue the Mandalorian gestured towards the crowds. Bastilla's attention flickered over the sea of faces and she was met by several curious pairs of eyes. "They probably don't get a lot of Jedi strolling around Gargon. Since you blend in as well as a Rancor in a snow storm you aren't going anywhere alone."

"I do not need protection," Bastilla said. She was stiff. Canderous could tell he had her in a corner.

"Just like you didn't need to be rescued from the Black Vulkars?"

"That was totally under control. And I had just crash landed on Taris remember? I may not have had all my wits about me at that moment," Bastilla shot back. She abruptly went quiet. Their disagreement had attracted even more curiosity. Canderous said nothing and after a moment she grudgingly conceded. "Yes, fine. Come inside with me. But I will handle the questioning."

"Of course," Canderous said. He gestured for her to lead the way and Bastilla huffed, turning her back on him. Suppressing a grin the grizzled veteran followed her into a warehouse.

**\- ~ -  
 _Dustil Onasi_**

All too soon Dustil would step into the arena a third time. The final time regardless of the outcome. Sai Penteg had been an easy opponent and Dustil had walked into the second match over confident. He'd come closer to death that day then ever before. The Mandalorian Dustil faced had been vicious and fast. Put on the defensive Dustil resorted to the Force, gathering the power and sending his attacker flying backward head over feet almost the length of the field. Even with that advantage Dustil barely survived the fight.

The sudden revelation of his Force abilities had sent the crowds into an uproar. Some of the Mandalorian's supporters argued the Mysterious Stranger cheated by using the Force. Motta defended Dustil. A thorough search of the rules had been conducted. In the end no restrictions were found regarding Force users and Dustil was declared the victor.

Motta begged Dustil to sign a contract. But after the narrow brush with death Dustil firmly refused. The public wanted to adore him the Hutt explained, they couldn't stop replaying the latest fight. As soon as tickets to the next one had gone on sale they were sold out in minutes. Didn't Dustil understand, he was famous?

Sitting on a bench in a small changing room Dustil felt only small and nervous. The roar of the crowds could be heard even down here. Though it was muffled by layers of walls and floors. It did nothing to calm his nerves or ease the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Certainly he'd experienced danger before. Korriban had been ruthless with treachery at every turn. In truth he'd been glad to get away. Excellence at any cost never truly felt right to Dustil Onasi.

Even with Master Revan, Dustil had known danger. But he never feared it with his teacher at his side. Patiently she refined his fighting skills, coached him past his fear until the Padawan felt only peace at the height of battle. Above all that she taught him that his lightsaber was a weapon of last resort. Revan encouraged Dustil to seek peaceful solutions first. Violence was an option only when all avenues to peace had been exhausted.

 _How disappointed Revan would be_ Dustil thought glumly. He sighed and leaned back against the wall fixing a blank stare on the ceiling. There was nothing left to do but wait.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**_Jolee Bindoo_ **

 

They passed into the lower slums of Gargon. Like most places where the galaxies less fortunate scraped a living together it was crowded and cramped. The streets were cluttered with trash piles, where scrawny looking strays of a species Jolee didn't recognize sniffed about. Something stood out to Jolee though. The cantinas were nearly packed to bursting. Even the street vendors who had invested in a link to the holonet were seeing a fair amount of customers. 

 

Shouldering their way through the crowds Carth led them into the first of the apartment towers. With distaste Jolee noticed how poorly the place was kept. Refuse and scrap littered the floor. The walls were darkened by decades of filth which obscured even the graffiti. Music and shouting leaked from behind the sealed doors, the distorted sounds thick in the silence of the corridor.

 

Carefully Jolee looked at his friends face and saw the man wore a grim expression. The old Jedi wanted to tell Carth his loved ones weren't here. Jolee felt it. This was an unhappy place and undoubtably a sad story waited behind every door. But not Revan. 

 

However the Jedi was aware Carth was tired of all the talk of the Force with its ambiguous premonitions. Instead he kept his mouth shut. 

 

Roughly Carth knocked on the managers door. It was a thin Twi'lek who answered, shirtless and unhappy looking. 

 

"We're looking for friends, do you have a minute?" Carth asked. His tone made it clear the Twi'lek would have the time. Jolee sighed inwardly. Perhaps he should take over asking the questions.

 

Carth launched into a description of Revan and his son and at the end the Twi'lek just shook his head and closed the door in their faces.

 

"He's not certain," Carth said. 

 

"He's certain," Jolee argued. Now there was an edge to his voice. He was starting to wonder if it wouldn't be better for Carth to remain on the  _Raptor_. Even so Carth would likely stay there only if he was restrained. Jolee determined to make the best of things. They ventured back outside and continued up the street. His eyes swept the crowds again. "What is this? A holiday?"

 

Carth finally took notice of the packed cantinas. He craned his neck to get a better look. "I think it's some kind of - sporting event on the holonet."

 

"That explains it," Jolee said. The pair were drifting closer to one of the dive joints that appeared less packed than the others. Above the door a flickering sign proclaimed it as  _Varn's Palace_  though in the Jedi's opinion there had been cleaner looking mud-pits on Kashyyyk. Standing at the back of the crowd the men tried to glimpse the display being fed over the holonet. All around it seemed people were shouting, calling out their bets to a haggard looking woman who was tending bar. When Jolee did finally see the projected holograms it was a large arena with densely packed crowds standing around it. 

 

"Excuse me," Jolee said pleasantly to one of the fellows nearby. The man, liver spotted by long hard years, turned watery eyes onto Jolee and Carth. Gesturing at the arena he asked, "What's all the excitement over?"

 

"Oh, just arrived huh?" the old man asked with a wheeze. He smacked his gums and nodded as if to agree with himself. 

 

"That we have my friend," Jolee told him.

 

"Well, old Motta got himself a doozy of a match lined up."

 

"Match? You mean a duel?" Carth asked. The old man nodded again. 

 

"Yep. To the death!" 

 

"Do people usually get this excited over a duel?"

 

This time the old man shook his head. Before he could answer, Jolee's communicator began to signal. The Jedi stepped away from the din of  _Varn's Palace_  to find a quiet spot. Carth remained, politely listening to the mans answer. 

 

"See, Motta found himself a new fighter. Special like too. I'd love to put a few credits on him, but ol' Tiru Varn won't give me the time of day since I stopped paying my tab. Take my advice, if you put any money on this, take the odds on the Mysterious Stranger. He's bound to win again! Just remember who told you huh?"

 

Carth gave a forced smile and excused himself, making his way back to Jolee. The Jedi watched and he tried to make sense of Mission's message. Wherever the girl had gone she was picking up a fair amount of interference. Jolee was about to tell her to try again when Carth froze in the street. The color drained from his face and he looked for a moment like he'd been punched in the gut.

 

"What is it?" Jolee asked sharply coming to the pilots side. 

 

"The Mysterious Stranger," Carth said in a gasp. Jolee shook his head failing to understand. With surprising speed Carth reached out and grabbed Jolee by the shoulders. "Back on Taris, Revan fought in the dueling ring under that name. I think maybe Dustil is using the same one."

 

The most Jolee had gotten out of Mission was the same pseudonym. Jolee felt a knot in his stomach. 

 

"Jolee, my son is about to enter a fight to the death!"  

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Mission Vao_ **

 

The transmission squelched with static and Mission winced as she terminated the connection. She turned to Zaalbar.

 

"We got to get there! Maybe we can stop him from fighting," Mission breathed. 

 

<  _It looks really crowded Mission, and we don't have tickets._  > Zaalbar pointed out with concern. After checking at the second medcenter it had suddenly struck Mission why the name of the duelist had seemed familiar to her friend. Years ago Revan had used that name to enter the dueling ring on Taris. They'd watched her fight against Ice on a viewing screen. Not too long after that match, Mission had found herself fighting alongside Revan and Carth to save Zaalbar from the Gamorrean slavers.

 

"Yeah, but it might be Carth's son!" Mission said. For a moment she thought it was Revan headlining the match herself. They'd rushed back to the promenade and checked out the arena again. When the stadium projectors displayed the images of the two fighters over the crowds it was of two men. One was a thin, older man with a scowl on his face and a narrow goatee. The other one looked like a younger unkempt version of Carth Onasi. 

 

"Besides, I'll wager there's a back door or something we can use," Mission said. She grabbed Zaalbar's arm and pulled him along for a few steps. "We have to at least try!"

 

They broke into a run, hurrying towards the Gargon arena.

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Tiru Varn_ **

 

Once Varn figured out his tenant was none other than the Mysterious Stranger he'd gone straight to Motta. In light of the young mans Force abilities the enterprising Varn figured Sibba Motta would offer the biggest payout for information about Dustil's lightsaber wielding mother. 

 

There had been a day where Varn was consumed by worry. He'd spent the time planning his best way to convince Dustil he'd entered their apartment with only the best interests in mind. But it never came up. His sick mother must not have remembered the encounter. 

 

Varn remembered it well and had shared it in great detail with the Hutt. Before Varn fully understood what was happening he had agreed to help Motta acquire the woman.

 

Motta's instructions had been clear. In the hour before the start of the match Varn would wait in the alley behind his bar. There, the Hutt's men would meet him and they were to be escorted by Varn into the apartment. 

 

"After all Mister Varn, I'm certain our newest hero will be grateful you took such an interest in his mothers health," Motta had suggested as their meeting drew to a close. "I'm so happy you came to me, so I could arrange adequate medical care for the poor woman's health."

 

 And that's how Tiru Varn ended up standing in the alley instead of managing his bar on one the busiest days. He knew his silly niece was going to somehow mess things up. But he didn't dare cross Motta. That meant crossing the Exchange. Tiru Varn was greedy but he wasn't suicidal. 

 

"Varn?"

 

Nervously he turned and found himself facing five men. Iridonian each of them. Their leader took a step forward, bearing down on Varn. At the last moment he managed to gulp an answer. 

 

"Take us to the woman."

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Carth Onasi_ **

 

The grounds surrounding the arena were not as busy as he expected. Carth realized with a sick feeling it was because most of the crowd had already gone inside. That meant the match was close to starting. Anger washed over him. 

 

"Not through the front doors," Jolee said, giving Carth's shoulder a gentle push towards the side of the building. 

 

They continued on, rounding the main entrance to find themselves on a narrow footpath intended for employees. The walkway was empty with the staff already at work within the buildings. Carth stopped at the first door. It was firmly sealed and would only grant access with a keycard. He let loose a blistering curse and slammed his fist into the door. 

 

"Come on," Jolee growled. 

 

Following the curve of the path they came up on the far side of the arena. It was darker back here. Only a few of the lights fixed to the wall still glowed with life. And most of them flickered as though on the verge of going out. Ahead waited an imposing figure. It loomed out of the shadows and raised a long arm to wave at the men.    

 

"Zaalbar!" Carth called feeling a small measure of relief. 

 

<  _Mission is inside. She's looking for your son Carth._  > the Wookie said softly. He glanced over Carth and Jolee's heads then nodded for them to follow. A little further along there was a second door. <  _She sliced the lock so we could get in too._  >

 

Zaalbar led the way inside, ducking his head to fit under the doorway. Carth went second and Jolee brought up the rear. 

 

Inside the roar of the crowds assaulted the group immediately. It was so great the walls shook with the sound. A long corridor stretched out ahead of them with no sign of Mission. They jogged along until the passage split in two directions. From the look of it this was a service ring accessed by employees who needed to avoid the guest walkways. Stopped to assess their options Zaalbar tried to reach Mission via her personal communicator. 

 

"I found Dustil's changing room, but Big Z, we're too late," Mission's voice hissed over the comm link. "He's already on his way to the ring."

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**_Dustil Onasi_ **

 

Gravely he approached the doors to the ring, the protocol droid Motta had assigned him was clanking alongside. Dustil tried to keep his mind clear. Dread hung at the edges of his thoughts however. The closer he got the harder the feeling became to ignore. 

 

  
_For Master Revan_  he reminded himself. Flexing his sword arm Dustil tried to ease the tension which was setting in. 

 

"Mister Onasi should relax," the protocol droid intoned. Dustil glared at the machine. 

 

Ahead of them the door locks slipped and it swooshed open. Without pausing Dustil entered the arena floor. The flood of lights and the cheers of the crowd merged into a single living thing. Dustil paid no attention to it, and it seemed to push the spectators into a greater frenzy. It was difficult to overhear Motta's introduction over the speakers.

 

"HERE IS THE MAN OF THE HOUR, THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER HIMSELF!"

 

The droid had stopped and took up a position at the door. Dustil squared his shoulders and kept walking. He saw his opponent standing at the center of the ring and went directly to the man. They would shake hands in a display of sportsmanship, retreat to their respective markers and wait for Motta to give the signal. 

 

As he approached Dustil took in every detail of the man, assessing the strengths and weaknesses of his enemy. The casual, relaxed posture of the duelist was the first thing he observed. 

 

  
_He's used to fighting, but he's possibly overconfident_  Revan's voice whispered in his head.

 

The armor the other man wore was light and of a design Dustil had never seen before. Even the blade he held seemed modified and bore a sigil on the metal that glinted beneath the lights. 

 

_Custom. He had the money to spend on it, which could have come from prize money. Either way he has a streak of vanity._

 

When Dustil was close enough to offer his hand he met the mans contemptuous sneer with a hard look of his own.

 

_This man does not respect you. Be prepared for him to trick you._

 

Neither man spoke. The handshake was brusque and once completed each of the fighters turned wordlessly and went to their marks. Overhead Motta was getting the crowds into a fervent pitch. 

 

"THE TIME HAS COME. CAN THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER FIND LUCK A THIRD TIME? WILL THE FORCE BE ON HIS SIDE? OR WILL OREM KEEL STRIKE DOWN OUR HANDSOME HERO AS HE HAS RUTHLESSLY DONE TO SO MANY OTHERS?" 

 

Dustil tightened and relaxed the grip he had on his foil. He took a breath and held it in. When he released it a second later it was replaced by the peace Master Revan had worked so hard to teach him. In that tranquility Dustil was finally prepared for the battle ahead. Motta called the match to start and the young Padawan raced forward, his blade ready, and met his opponent in a clash of metal that silenced the arena.            

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Bastilla_ **

 

The foreman of the packing plant turned out to be a Mandalorian. And a veteran of the wars as well, and as such he wouldn't speak a world to Bastilla. With difficultly the Jedi closed her mouth and allowed Canderous to take over. He had an easy way of talking with the foreman and soon enough the pair went off to his office together. Her grizzled companion had given her a crooked grin before setting off. The look she was sure had been meant to irritate her. Bastilla looked away determined not to give Canderous the satisfaction.

 

Left alone in the mechanics bay Bastilla tried waiting patiently near the door. It seemed the people who were assigned here were taking a break. They had been gathered near a small workbench on the far side, huddled around a small portable view screen. 

 

Whatever they were watching had the group excited. She listened absently to their chatter and was soon drawn in. Quietly Bastilla approached them, standing at the far edge of the workers and caught a glimpse of the screen. In it two men were locked in combat. They were each delivering a flurry of strokes that their opponent would block or twist away from. The Jedi found herself transfixed on the sight. 

 

She was still focused on the battle when Canderous emerged from the foreman's office. It wasn't until he brushed her arm Bastilla realized he was waiting on her. 

 

"I didn't expect someone like you to take an interest in death matches," Canderous said. Bastilla drew in a tense breath. 

 

"I'm not. They just happen to be - skilled. There's nothing wrong with watching someone else's technique," Bastilla told him.  _What do you mean 'someone like me'_  was the thought she kept to herself. Canderous raised a brow. He looked at the screen and watched the fight for himself.

 

"There's good reason for that," Canderous said after a moment. Nodding towards the screen the Mandalorian added, "Dustil Onasi is in that fight."

 

Bastilla snapped her attention back to the screen. The men were moving so quickly it was hard to get a good look at their faces. But finally she thought she could see it for herself. Dustil's dark hair, his young face and that nearly identical look of grim determination his father often got.

 

"We must stop it!" Bastilla said hotly.

 

"The only way it stops is when one of those men is killed," Canderous told her. His abrupt tone felt cold to Bastilla. She glared at him. 

 

"That's Carth's son! Don't you care about your friend at all?" 

 

"Dustil knew what he was getting into. The foreman told me he was desperate to get his hands on more credits. For a strong kid like him, the arena was his best chance."

 

Bastilla turned sharply on her heel and left the warehouse. Outside she used her personal communicator and made an attempt to raise first Carth, then Jolee. Neither responded. The same thing happened when the Jedi attempted Mission and Zaalbar. Canderous had joined her by then and she wheeled on him irritably. But he cut her off before she could utter a word.

 

"The foreman said Dustil worried for his mother, she was sick and needed medical treatment. I'm assuming he was talking about Revan. He gave Dustil the suggestion of trying the arena when work around here wasn't bringing in enough." Canderous paused to give her a chance to speak but Bastilla found herself without a thing to say. Grudgingly she knew the mercenary was right. The duel would have to finish on its own. She only hoped Dustil knew what he was doing. But beneath that feeling there was a cold thought. How bad was Revan if Dustil was going to these lengths? 

 

"Now, he isn't certain about this, but he thinks Dustil and Revan are renting a room with a man called Tiru Varn," Canderous said. There was a look in his blue eyes which suggested he had enjoyed holding all the cards in this. 

 

"Did you ask - "

 

Canderous held out a datapad with a map displayed. She looked up at him with a broad smile. "Excellent work."

 

"Don't sound too surprised," Canderous told her. They said nothing more but headed for the slums at a steady run.

 

**\- ~ -**

_**Tiru Varn** _

 

There was a moment he felt doubt. Varn considered that perhaps the money Motta was paying him wasn't worth this. He'd brought the group of mercenaries upstairs and using his master keycard opened the apartment door for them. Nervously Varn followed behind and watched.

 

When they found the woman unconscious in bed there had been a brief argument among them. Varn didn't understand their words but realized the Iridonian's must have been hoping for a fight. They had been heavily armed and armored. Though Varn had mistaken them for overly cautious. She had been wielding a lightsaber when he'd walked in on her. 

 

The leader of the group bent, gave her a nudge with his armored fist and when she didn't respond he hit her hard on the cheek. Varn was shocked but he said nothing. At his next meeting with Motta he would demand a larger cut for being forced to work with these animals. The Iridonian's chuckled and the leader made a gesture at which one of the others stepped to the bedside.

 

Yanking the thin cover away the mercenary slipped his arms beneath the woman's frail form and lifted her. Without even acknowledging Varn the men marched past him and left the apartment with their prize. Varn stood alone in the empty apartment for only a moment. He scurried away, forgetting to shut the door, bolted down stairs and into his office. 

 

Occasionally his niece would pass by, banging on his door and begging him to help. Varn disregarded the girls cries for assistance and tucked into a full bottle of brandy.

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Carth Onasi_ **

 

Carth couldn't take his eyes off his son, yet at the same time, the father wished he could look elsewhere. A few dozen yards away his son fought against a stranger for his very life. 

 

They'd found Mission in the suite Dustil had been given to prepare in. His street clothes, a pair of rough trousers and a blue linen shirt, were folded neatly and left on the bench. Carth had picked them up and held them tightly to his chest. A gentle touch from Zaalbar's massive furred paw pulled Carth's attention back to the present. Mission was telling them she'd found a safe place for them to watch the match. 

 

The little Twi'lek had led them further along the service path until they reach a small alcove. It appeared to have served as a cage at one point. Metal bars separated them from the dueling ring itself. But standing against the bars Carth was able to see Dustil with painful clarity.  

 

  
_How could Revan let you do this?_ he found himself thinking. 

 

"Wow, he really has some moves doesn't he?" Mission said. 

 

"Of course he does, just like his old man. Revan has been teaching him as well," Jolee said looking at Carth briefly. The old man turned his gaze back to Dustil as the boy darted forward and brought his blade crashing down onto his opponents shoulder. "I see some her style in his moves."

 

Carth ignored them. He wanted his friends to be quiet but didn't dare speak himself for fear of missing anything. If he tried, and it was hard, Carth could look at the duel as a soldier. With that light he saw his son as a skilled swordsman. So was his opponent, but Dustil had the upper hand against him. As a father each clash of the blades seemed to strike Carth directly to the heart. 

 

Dustil dodged a blow leaping back at the last possible moment, just beyond the tip of the other mans sword. It passed harmlessly through the air. The other man had been so confident of the tactic he'd over extended himself. Using it to his advantage Dustil circled behind and swung. 

 

Holding his breath Carth watched his son land a solid blow to the mans other arm. The opponent staggered, his arm dangling uselessly at his side, broken Carth guessed from the impact. Dustil appeared to no more than flick his foil outward in a vicious swipe. Blade ripped into flesh, finding the spot that had been left open on his enemies thigh. This time the man cried out for the pain.

 

As the man turned to face Dustil he collapsed onto his his good knee with blood darkening the arena floor. Carth hoped for a moment his son would show mercy. But there was a coldness to his boys face that he had seen on Korriban. 

 

Dustil took a step forward, his sword going beneath the mans chin and plunging through. He paused and the crowd erupted into frantic cheers. 

 

**\- ~ -**

**_Dustil Onasi_ **

 

Keel's eyes glazed over and Dustil yanked his weapon free, sending a spray of blood into the air. The body of his opponent slumped onto its side. Dustil turned his back on it and let his attention drift into the sea of faces who had come to watch a man die. They screamed and called to him. Even Motta's voice was lost in the thunderous applause. 

 

  
_I'm done with you all he thought_ , throwing the Echani foil to the ground. Stiffly Dustil turned and walked back the way he had come. The protocol droid was still waiting for him. It turned and hurried along to keep pace with Dustil as they came back up the service hallway.

 

"A most excellent match Mister Onasi, Master Motta will be most pleased," the droid said. Dustil snorted. 

 

"I don't care what pleases Motta," Dustil shot back. He was eager to change and collect his winnings so he could be out of this place. Everything about what he'd done had violated Revan's teachings. All he wanted to put as much distance between himself and this horrible arena. 

 

"Tell Sibba Motta I want my money, and no more - "

 

"DUSTIL!" 

 

He froze hearing his name and turned quickly around. What he saw rendered him speechless

 

"Dustil," his father called again. Carth Onasi was running to him from an adjacent corridor. Absently he realized his father was also accompanied by an unfamiliar Jedi, a Wookie and a Twi'lek. 

 

"Father?" Dustil took a step forward then stopped. He still wasn't sure this was actually happening. 

 

Then, with relief flooding him, Dustil ran for Carth who caught him in a tight embrace. He buried his face in his father's neck and found he was close to tears. 

 

"You're safe," Carth breathed. "What were you thinking entering that fight?"

 

Dustil straightened, a little surprised by the scolding, then embarrassed when he realized what his father had just seen. "It's Master Revan, she's so sick. I thought, if I had the credits I could put her into stasis then get help. Dad, I didn't think you were coming. I had to do something."

 

Carth was shaking his head. "It's okay, I understand. I'm not mad Dustil, just glad you're safe."

 

With that Dustil found himself in his fathers arms again, only this time he was returning the hug. 

 

"Can you take us to Revan?" Carth asked of his son. Dustil nodded.

 

"I'm sorry Mister Onasi, but Master Motta is expecting you directly following the duel. His orders were clear," the protocol droid said. 

 

Dustil had forgotten about the thing and he looked at it sternly saying, "Tell Motta he can keep my cut."

 

The droid seemed bewildered but offered no protest. It stepped aside and watched Dustil as he led his father and the others away. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I never liked Carth's unhappy ending. Poor guy deserves some kind of break. Revan wanders off and then Dustil just drops off the face of the galaxy. I got to thinking that perhaps Revan lucked upon Dustil, a young man who wasn't ready to face his father but in need of training in the ways of the Force.


End file.
